Bravado (Jedi master Eeth Koth & Padawan Lakhri Tumuel)
by Livia Yoran
Summary: Another one-shot involving the strictest Jedi master in the Temple (in this AU, anyway) and his first padawan. Lakhri thinks he knows better than his master and is taught better. The story contains rather severe punishment of a young adult at the hand of another adult but also some comfort and bonding. If you don't like it, don't read it.


"Here," said Lakhri excitedly, handing Eeth the binoculars.

Eeth accepted them and scanned the building wordlessly for a long while. Finally, he set the binoculars down.

"I think it is a trap," he said matter-of-factly.

"Why did I know you were going to say that?" Lakhri asked, rolling his eyes. "Master, we've been watching Marlo the Hutt's residence for two weeks now without finding an opening. This door has only ever been used by kitchen servants. Now they accidentally left it open and the only thing you can think of is that it might be a trap?"

"I have not said it _might_ be a trap," said Eeth, unperturbed. "I am almost certain it is one. I have a very bad feeling about this. Besides, I have a hard time believing that Marlo's servants would be that careless. One of us must have been discovered watching the residence; or else, the questions we asked in town attracted attention."

Lakhri scowled. He thought he understood the unspoken message.

"You mean _I_ must have attracted attention," he said. " _You_ are certainly too perfect to ever let your guard slip."

"I neither said nor meant such a thing," Eeth said calmly, but with a hint of a warning in his voice that Lakhri recognised all too well. Still, at twenty-two years of age he was not as wary of his master as he had been when he was younger. He was still a padawan, but he was also an adult and thought that his opinion should hold some weight. To be fair, Eeth usually did ask for his opinions, and he mostly granted him the same amount of responsibility that he would give a junior knight; but in situations like these, he still tended to pull rank, and that rankled Lakhri.

"In any case," he insisted, "I say that it's a risk worth taking. We've been watching for weeks and have not been able to come up with any remotely promising way to get into the building."

"True," said Eeth. "But if we try to enter the building now and get killed in the attempt, nothing will be gained."

"So what's _your_ plan, then?" asked Lakhri acerbically. "Sit here until one of us dies of old age?"

"Mind your tone," said Eeth sternly. "First, we are currently gathering quite a bit of information on Marlo even without entering his residence. In the worst case, we will not find a way to get in, but will still have gathered valuable data. Second, with sufficient preparation, we may ultimately be able to impersonate two of the guards, servants or entertainers and enter the residence incognito, but we are not that far yet. Third, better fail a mission and be alive than fail a mission and die in the process. Needless to say, though, failure is not among my mission objectives."

"Well then, let's go in," said Lakhri forcefully.

Eeth was silent for a while. He took up the binoculars and scanned the entrance again. Finally, he said: "No. It feels like a trap to me, and I am not going to have any of us take that risk. We are not entering, and that's final."

Lakhri scowled. It had been his discovery, he thought, and Eeth was dismissing it as if it was nothing but the silly musings of a child.

"Lakhri," said Eeth quietly, "look at me."  
Reluctantly, Lakhri raised his head and looked Eeth in the eyes.

"I need to get back to the space port," said Eeth. "I have an appointment with one of Marlo's entertainers. She might be very valuable. While I am gone, you will continue your watch and you will not even think of entering the residence. That, padawan, is an order. Have I made myself clear?"

Lakhri pursed his lips.

"Crystal," he ground out.

Eeth nodded curtly.

"Good," he said. "May the Force be with you, padawan."

* * *

Lakhri opened his eyes. The bright light hit him like a sledgehammer. He groaned and closed them again.

"Do not move," he heard Eeth's voice. "Your leg is in a splint, and the effect of the narcotics is still rather strong."

Lakhri tried to remember what had happened. He did not have much success.

"Where am I?" he croaked.

"On our trip back home," said Eeth. "I hired a smuggler's ship to take us out of there as fast as possible. After we had been exposed, it was too dangerous to wait for a ship from the Temple and out of the question to take a passenger ship."

Lakhri tried opening his eyes again, this time more slowly. He blinked several times. Finally, his surroundings came into focus. They were rather shabby. He seemed to be resting on a manky old mattress in some kind of cargo hold. Eeth was sitting cross-legged on the floor, wearing nothing but a tunic. His thigh was bandaged and he had a bandage around his forehead as well.

"How did you get hurt?" Lakhri asked incredulously. In all his time as Eeth's padawan, he could count the number of times that his master had actually got hurt on the fingers of one hand. Eeth was simply too competent to allow such a thing to happen.

"I had to rescue you from Marlo's residence," said Eeth evenly. "You were unconscious and your leg was broken, so I had to carry you. That slowed me down a little while droidekas were shooting at me."

Lakhri felt heat welling up in his cheeks.

"Oh," he said in a small voice. "So… so it was a trap, after all?"

"Yes," said Eeth, still in a carefully neutral tone of voice. "From what I gathered, they put up a trigger that set off anaesthetic darts, and there was a trapdoor right behind the entrance. You fell down and broke your leg in the process."

There was a moment's silence. Then Lakhri asked quietly: "And how in the Force's name did you manage to get me out of there?"

"I went to the residence with a bag of credits and told them I wanted to pay back my debts to Marlo," Eeth said. "Nobody dared question that for fear of rousing Marlo's ire if it was true, so they let me in. When I was inside, I mind-controlled everyone who was remotely susceptible and thus, with a lot of luck, made it to the cell where they held you captive. As I had expected, they caught on to me at some point and sent droidekas to prevent me from escaping. Carrying you out while fighting them off was hard; I was grazed by a couple of shots, but fortunately suffered nothing more than flesh wounds. I had organised this transport before I went in, and I had a speeder hidden near the residence that brought us to the spaceport. As soon as we had made it aboard, our pilot took off. Apparently, Marlo had no spaceship at the ready. So far, there have been no pursuers. That gave me the time to tend to our wounds as best I could. You have been out cold for about a day. Apparently, the dose of narcotics they stunned you with was sufficient for a Hutt."

"Oh," murmured Lakhri again, lowering his eyes. He felt deeply ashamed. Normally, he was not at all bad at sensing traps; his Force control was extremely good, in fact. And if he was really honest with himself, he had shared Eeth's bad feeling about the whole affair from the outset. But he had been so bent on proving Eeth wrong that he had simply ignored that feeling. It had been an infinitely stupid thing to do. He had risked his own life and Eeth's, had ruined their mission – and the cost of the transport back was probably not entirely negligible either, although he knew that Eeth would never mention that.

"I screwed up big time, huh?" he croaked. His throat was rather sore and there was a foul taste in his mouth. He also felt rather queasy.

"Yes," said Eeth bluntly. "Truth be told, I had thought you too old to do something this reckless and disobedient, simply for the purpose of defying me. Rest assured that we will talk about it at quite some detail, once we are back at the Temple and your leg has healed. The Council might want to get in a word or two as well. But for now, your health has priority. You need to drink. Are you up to eating?"

"Probably not," Lakhri replied. After what Eeth had said, he felt twice as queasy as before. And thirsty. Eeth had been right about that one. If only the man could be wrong at least _occasionally_ , Lakhri thought; but the massive amount of guilt he was currently feeling did not leave much room for annoyance.

He gulped down the glass of water Eeth brought him, set it down and forced himself to look at his master.

"Thanks for getting me out of there," he said softly.

Eeth, who had been just about to turn and fetch some more water, paused. Lakhri could tell that, for once, his master was unsure of what to say.

"I would always do everything that is in my power to get you out," Eeth finally replied in a low voice. "We are a team, after all."

He turned abruptly and went to refill the glass.

* * *

"Well, there you go," Healer Natchert, an elderly human, said cheerfully, removing the bone knitter. "Good as new."

"Thanks," said Lakhri, bending the leg several times. It really did seem as good as new to him.

"You are free to leave, then," said the healer, smiling at Eeth who was standing next to Lakhri's bed, the cut on his forehead reduced to a faint pink line. He was still wearing a bandage on his leg, Lakhri knew, but that was hidden under his pants.

"Alright," said Lakhri and sat up. He felt a little dizzy at first, but that was only from having been on bed rest for so long. The feeling went away quickly.

"Where are we going now?" he asked Eeth apprehensively after they had thanked the healer and left the ward.

"The Council chamber," said Eeth curtly. He did not appreciate having to report a failed mission, Lakhri knew; and it showed on the man's face.

"Master?" he asked. "Would you consider letting me present the mission report? After all, it was entirely my fault that the mission went badly. I want to take responsibility for it."

Eeth was silent for a moment, considering the request. Finally, he said: "Thank you, padawan. I appreciate the offer. But we were in this as a team, and I was the head of that team. I will start giving the report. From the point where we split up, you may recount what little you remember, and I will fill the gaps."

"Alright," said Lakhri quietly. It was true, he did not remember much of what had happened after he had made the unwise decision to disobey Eeth's orders. He had no doubt that the Council would not approve of that decision at all. And he was all the more thankful to Eeth for standing with him. All the while, he knew that the man was not through with him. Even if his misguided idea had turned out to be successful, there would have been no way that he could disobey Eeth during a mission and get away with it.

The Council most definitely agreed with that assessment.

Lakhri had no idea what was more mortifying: Being told off by Yoda like an unruly initiate in front of the entire Council; being sentenced to three months of probation like a disobedient teenager; being restricted to the Temple for that whole period, with no less than three hundred hours of community service to perform; listening to the Councillors telling his master to make sure his padawan never, ever thought of disobeying his orders during a mission again; or listening to Eeth promise them he would.

It was a very subdued padawan who followed his master out of the Council chamber.

'Maybe, though,' he thought hopefully on his way back, 'it won't be as bad as all that.'

After all, Eeth had been downright caring when he was hurt, as he usually was when Lakhri was ill or injured. Besides, Lakhri had already been punished by the Council AND he was twenty-two years old, for Force's sake! It had been a long time since he had last received a physical punishment from Eeth. Maybe he was too old for them altogether?

When they had entered their quarters and Eeth turned on him, Lakhri's hopes evaporated instantly. He knew the look on Eeth's face, and it did not bode well for him. He did not expect what happened next, though.

"Give me your saber," Eeth said brusquely, holding out his hand.

Lakhri gaped at him. Being divested of his saber was nothing new to him, as such; but he considered it a punishment for teenagers. It had not happened to him in years. He could not even begin to fathom the humiliation of having to walk the Temple corridors, at his age, with his saber dangling at his master's belt!

"Master, please," he pleaded, backing up a step. "I'm twenty-two years old. I know that what I did was wrong. You simply can't–"

"Oh yes," said Eeth grimly, still holding out his hand. "I can. Your saber. Now."

Eeth knew what he was doing, even if Lakhri did not. Almost every senior padawan reached a stage, at some point, at which they thought they had passed adolescence and learned it all. As a consequence, they became overconfident, reckless and sometimes outright arrogant. It was one of the reasons why padawans were generally knighted rather late, long after adolescence was over. Before they could become Jedi Knights, they needed to gain a measure of humility that only came with experience and maturity. Eeth had gone through the adolescent bravado stage unusually early and it had lasted unusually long. His master had been entirely and unyieldingly intolerant about it, and Eeth had no intention to be any more tolerant with Lakhri than his master had been with him.

Lakhri was still staring at Eeth, willing his mouth not to hang open in total consternation. His hand hovered over his saber protectively, and he was wracking his brain for something to say.

Apparently, this was taking him too long, for Eeth's face darkened considerably at Lakhri's lack of compliance.

"I see you are still under the illusion that you have any say in this," he said frostily. "That will have to be rectified."

He turned on his heel and strode off to the kitchen. Lakhri, who had just opened his mouth to speak, barely had the time to make two steps after him before Eeth was back already, carrying a small knife.

"Go and cut a switch," he told Lakhri, holding the knife out to him. "No, make that two switches. When you are back, we can resume this discussion."

Lakhri's face fell, if that was even possible at this point. He hated being switched with a passion, and of course Eeth knew that perfectly well.

"Master, I'm sorry I did not obey you right away!" he said hastily. "It's just – Force, I'm too old for all this! Can't we talk about this like grown-ups?"

The instant he had said this, he knew he had made a mistake, but it was too late.

Eeth dropped to his knees, grabbed Lakhri's shoulders and forced him to look him in the face which was easier now that they were at each other's eye level. This was something Eeth only ever did when he was extremely serious about something – it could not have happened more than four or five times in Lakhri's entire padawanhood.

'Oh Force,' thought Lakhri in dismay, 'now he's _really_ pissed.'

"Let me make a few things clear," said Eeth very softly. "You are still my padawan. Until you are knighted, I will be your master and you will obey my orders, whether you are twelve or twenty-two. When I give you an order, you do not get to argue it. If you do, or if you disobey me, you will bear the consequences. The fact that such occasions have been few and far between lately does not mean that you are exempt from the consequences; it only means you have become better at avoiding such occurrences. Now, however, you have crossed several lines and you will bear whatever consequences I impose. I am not going to put your punishment to a vote. You will go and cut two switches, like I told you. If you refuse to do so, I will go myself and I will make it four. It is your choice, and you have exactly three seconds to make it."

He held out the knife to Lakhri again. Lakhri did not have the slightest doubt that Eeth would make good on his threat and as such, it was not much of a choice to make. With a slightly shaking hand, he took the knife and made his way to the nearest garden, feeling as if he was about fifteen years old. Apparently they could _not_ talk about this like grown-ups.

Lakhri was not looking forward to completing his task at all, but he knew better than to dawdle or to cut switches that Eeth would not consider sufficiently horrible for someone his age. Since Eeth seemed adamant about _not_ treating him as an adult, it was unlikely that he would suddenly be tolerant about stuff he had never been tolerant about before.

Holding the switches, Lakhri returned to their quarters, a resigned look on his face. At this point, he did not care who saw him; they were soon going to see him without his saber all the time anyway. Besides, it was not exactly the first time he was doing this and he had far more important things on his mind than the question of who was seeing him – for example, the question how many strokes Eeth was planning on giving him.

Eeth accepted the switches from Lakhri with a perfunctory nod and gestured towards the couch with his chin. Heaving a sigh, Lakhri stood in front of the armrest, opened the drawstring of his pants and let them drop to his ankles. He pushed down his underpants and bent over. His feet always left the floor when he did that and he hated it; but he had to admit that, as spanking positions went, this one was at least fairly comfortable. Not that it was going to stay so for long, of course.

Sure enough, the two switches crashed down onto his bottom, leaving two lines of fire in their wake, and Lakhri let out a strangled yelp. He had given up on trying to bear his punishments stoically long ago. To his surprise, however, the second stroke did not follow immediately.

Instead, Eeth asked sternly: "If I ask you to give me your saber now, will you do so immediately and without backtalk?"

"Yes," Lakhri said hastily. "Yes, master."

He was quite incredulous. It was entirely unlike Eeth to stop a switching after a single stroke, even if it had been carried out with two switches. But he was not going to look a gift bantha in the mouth. Therefore, when Eeth ordered: "Then give me your saber now," he immediately scrambled off the couch arm and, without even taking the time to pull up his pants, unclipped his saber from his belt and handed it to Eeth.

Eeth fastened the saber to his own belt wordlessly while Lakhri bent down to retrieve his pants.

"You may leave them down," said Eeth coolly. "We are only just getting to the rest of your punishment for your disobedience during our mission. Go to the cupboard and get me the cane. The big one."

Lakhri's felt his stomach drop to his feet at that pronouncement. Eeth had never used that cane on him before. It had suddenly appeared in his cupboard a few years ago. When Lakhri had gathered his courage and asked Eeth what it was for, his master had told him that it was an implement suitable for adults, such as he was now, but that it was reserved for cases of extremely serious misbehaviour. That was so typical of Eeth; the man liked to be prepared for everything. Lakhri had been able to avoid the big cane completely so far, but apparently he had run out of luck now. Deep down he knew, of course, that luck had nothing to do with it. He had chosen to disobey Eeth during a mission and had caused that mission to fail; he had no right to be indignant. With that in mind, and the threat of the switches still hovering over his head, he stepped out of his pants, but pulled up his underpants, at least for the moment. Then he made his way to the cupboard.

As he saw the cane, which was considerably longer and thicker than the one Eeth normally used (and that one hurt plenty!), his courage left him.

"Master," he said weakly, "can't we - OUCH!"

Before he was able to finish his sentence, Eeth's hand had clamped around his ear and Lakhri found himself being dragged back to the couch.

" _WE_ will not do anything," Eeth barked. "I see you still fail to fully understand your situation. Well, I will just have to try and make you see some sense."

"Master, you don't have to," Lakhri protested while he was being bodily deposited back over the armrest of the couch and Eeth pulled down his underpants in one swift motion. "I was going to obey, really, I was! Master, pl- YEOOOW!"

The switches came down with a force that literally took his breath away.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled, frantically looking for a way to make his master understand that he had really not been trying to be disobedient, but it was no use – Eeth gave him three more scorching strokes and Lakhri was crying quietly by the time Eeth finally pulled him up and said: "Now bring me the cane. Any more dawdling, and you will get a dozen with both switches before we even get started."

Sniffling, Lakhri stumbled over to the cupboard and got out the cane. Normally, he had more self-control than this, but the whole scene had been so mortifyingly humiliating to him that he had nearly immediately lost his composure. He suspected that his composure was going to be the least of his worries in just a moment, however.

Eeth accepted the cane from Lakhri, his face stony. "Bare your bottom and bend over the couch arm again," he ordered in a tight voice.

Lakhri complied mutely. It was abundantly clear to him by now that his age did not make him exempt from serious punishment. He just hoped he would survive this cane.

When the first stroke hit, he flinched from surprise; first, because he had not heard it coming, and second, because it was not a stroke, it was a swat with the paddle - the small one that Eeth carried around in his belt. His relief was short-lived, however, for Eeth did not hold back. Of course, being paddled by Eeth had never been fun, but Lakhri knew by now that there were differences. And right now, the force with which the paddle hit made abundantly clear to him that Eeth was seriously displeased. Considering that this was doubtlessly only the warm-up for the caning that was about to go down, Lakhri did not hold high hopes for the fate of his bottom.

The appearance of the paddle was not the end of Lakhri's surprises, however, because after the first swat, Eeth started to lecture. He rarely did that. Usually, in cases like this in which the reason for the punishment was obvious, Eeth saw no reason to expand on it. At the most, he summed it up in one short sentence before he started, and then he focussed in silence on wielding whatever implement he had chosen. Today was different, however, and that led Lakhri to actually try and listen despite the repeated impact of a flat piece of wood on his bottom which hurt like a bastard.

"Just so we are clear about this," said Eeth sternly and brought the paddle down a second time. "You are being punished for your disobedience during our mission." This was followed by two more swats in rapid succession. "You are also being punished for the attitude behind it." A particularly hard swat to the undercurve of Lakhri's bottom emphasized this point. "You have become _overconfident_ , _reckless_ and possibly even _arrogant_." Each of those adjectives was underlined with an enthusiastic swat to the backs of Lakhri's thighs, which caused him to kick out. Unperturbed, Eeth continued: "These are attributes that have no place in a Jedi's chosen path." Swat. "As you have seen for yourself, they can seriously endanger the success of our work." Swat. "Your attitude needs to change, and I intend to give you a strong incentive to change it."

Lakhri thought that his master might just have _asked_ him to change his attitude instead of stressing his point with what must have been at least a dozen more hard swats with that infernal paddle, but considered it wise not to voice that comment. It would have wasted breath that he did not possess anyway because he was too busy whimpering, groaning and trying to keep a modicum of dignity. He was under no illusion what was eventually going to happen to that dignity, but he thought he might at least try to hold out until Eeth started wielding the cane. And he managed, only just; by the time Eeth put the paddle aside, he had received nearly two dozen hard swats and tears were stinging his eyelids, but he had not been reduced to outright sobbing or wailing yet. When he sensed Eeth pick up the cane, however, he stiffened.

"Master, I'm sorry," he blurted in a last, desperate attempt to avert the caning.

"Good," said Eeth evenly. "I trust you will be even sorrier in a moment."

Before Lakhri had a chance to react to that, any chance at all, he heard the characteristic whistle that meant the first stroke was about to go down. Sure enough, a split-second later he felt the impact. For a second, he was relieved because the pain did not seem as bad as he had expected, but that impression was extremely short-lived. Then the pain started to register, and it sure enough was every bit as bad as he had expected, or possibly worse. Despite being a nearly-fully-trained, grown-up Jedi, Lakhri let out a loud howl.

He did not quite know how he managed to stay in position during the entire caning. Maybe it was because his feet did not reach to the floor; he had always felt that this made it harder to jump up during a punishment. Or maybe it was because he was, after all, twenty-two years old and possessed quite a bit of self-control; but certainly not enough to keep him from wailing throughout the whole ordeal as if he was being murdered, which was what this punishment felt like. His hands clenched tightly around the couch pillow that he had unconsciously grabbed while his legs were kicking and his throat felt hoarse from yelling. In truth, the whole thing hardly lasted longer than half a minute, but it felt like an eternity to Lakhri. He could not stop bawling after Eeth was finished; his bottom simply hurt too much.

Eeth, for his part, laid the cane aside and waited for Lakhri to regain some semblance of composure, but it did not seem to be happening. He had, in fact, taken care not to have the strokes criss-cross each other which meant that, while there twelve broad, angry-red welts, there was no blood and little bruising. However, Eeth had no doubt that the punishment was excruciatingly painful. He also knew that, despite being harsh, that cane would not leave any lasting damage. Besides, he was planning on providing some healing before too long.

For now, though, Lakhri seemed inconsolable. Eeth finally decided that he needed to do something about this. He had never been prone to creating situations of physical closeness, but he did try to provide it when he really felt that Lakhri needed it. This had not happened in quite a while, but it seemed to be required now.

Eeth tentatively reached out a hand and put it onto Lakhri's back, patting it comfortingly. This appeared to have a small effect. After a while, when Lakhri's sobs had quieted down, Eeth gently helped his padawan up from the couch. To his surprise, said padawan turned around, pressed his head against his master's stomach and slung his arms around him, crying into his robes. Eeth returned the hug a little awkwardly, and that awkwardness was not only because his padawan was two heads smaller than him. Still, he decided it was the right thing to do and Lakhri seemed to agree because his sobs slowly died down.

"Thank you, master," he finally said, quite sincerely, straightening himself up and wincing at the pain this simple movement caused him. He gingerly touched his bottom and was a little surprised to feel and see no blood.

"I will provide some healing later," Eeth said quietly. "After we have meditated."

He produced a handkerchief and handed it to Lakhri who proceeded to clean up his face as best he could.

Lakhri was a little surprised that his master was apparently planning on meditating together with him. Usually, after having been disciplined, he was sent off to meditate alone. Could it be that Eeth was actually feeling bad about having meted out such a harsh punishment? He risked a glance at the man's face; it appeared as unfazed as always.

"I'm sorry, master," Lakhri said on an impulse. "It was wrong of me to disobey you. I was impatient, and I wanted to prove myself. I should have tried to curb those feelings, instead of acting on them."

"You should have," Eeth agreed. "I am glad you see this now. And I accept your apology."

Lakhri was not entirely sure, but he thought there was a tiny hint of approval in his master's eyes, and he was glad for it. Deciding to discard his underpants for now, he pulled up his loose pants gingerly, hissing as the rough tissue touched his bottom.

He straightened up very slowly and said: "I'm ready for meditation when you are."

Meditating with a bottom that felt as if it was about to kill him was hard, but Lakhri had, unfortunately, been able to acquire some practice in the years he had spent as Eeth's padawan. Besides, Eeth helped him find his focus and work on his emotions throughout the meditation. Lakhri was thankful for that. It helped him put things into perspective. It also allowed him to catch a glimpse of Eeth's feelings about the whole matter, and he was shocked at what he sensed.

"You were afraid for me?" he blurted, inadvertently pulling out of the trance and staring at Eeth as if he had suddenly sprouted… more horns than he already possessed.

"Padawan," Eeth reprimanded him mildly for his lack of discipline. "Yes, I was… afraid for you. What else did you expect?"

What had Lakhri expected? Well… it was true that in the past years, Eeth had improved vastly over the stern disciplinarian that he used to be, and he had certainly always done his duty by Lakhri. Lakhri had never been sure, however, whether duty was not all there was to it. Even when Eeth provided physical reassurance, Lakhri had got the impression that he was doing it because duty commanded it, not because he felt like it. And when Eeth had saved him from Marlo's residence, and probably saved his life, too, he had also been doing his duty. But what Lakhri had sensed from his master right now was entirely different. It was what people felt when they were afraid for someone they loved: A fierce protectiveness, mingled with a fear that came close to panic, although Lakhri had yet to see Eeth actually panicking.

"I… I wasn't sure," he said lamely, his cheeks coloring slightly. "Thank you, master," he added softly, almost inaudibly.

Eeth was saved from the necessity of reacting to this statement by the door chime. He sensed his former master outside the door.

"Come in!" he called, and the door swished open to let Fenya in.

"Am I interrupting you?" she asked, looking from Lakhri to Eeth who were both kneeling on their meditation mats.

"Technically, yes, but do come in," replied Eeth, rising from his mat in one smooth motion. Lakhri followed suit, but rather stiffly; Fenya did not fail to notice that he was wincing several times.

"I was told that you returned from your mission and had been injured," she said in concern. "Both of you. "

"Yes, and I was going to call you tonight to tell you we are still in one piece," Eeth replied with dignity, "but it appears that Temple gossip was faster. Sit down. I will make us some tea."

While Eeth took off for the kitchen, Fenya took a seat on a chair, smiled at Lakhri and beckoned for him to join her at the table. He gave her a crooked grin in return.

"I'd rather not sit right now," he said.

"Oh?" said Fenya, raising her eyebrows.

She was not shocked by the statement, per se; not only was she familiar with Eeth's style of discipline, but she had occasionally, if only rarely, meted out punishments that left her padawan unable to sit as well. She also knew that Eeth always provided some bacta, healing or both at some point before Lakhri had to go to bed. Still, to her knowledge, a punishment severe enough to leave Lakhri unable to sit had not occurred in years, and the fact that it had happened so shortly after master and padawan had returned from a mission, injured, led her to the conclusion that something serious must have happened while they had been away.

"I take it the mission did not go too well, then?" she inquired.

Lakhri sighed. It was bad enough having an uncannily perceptive master, but he had an uncannily perceptive grandmaster as well. He supposed Eeth must have learned it somewhere.

"No," he said. "If you must know, I disobeyed my master and went into Marlo the Hutt's residence despite clear orders to the contrary. I fell right into a trap, my master had to rescue me and we had to flee. Needless to say, my decision did not go over well."

"As must have been obvious to you from the outset," Fenya remarked. "Why did you do it, then?"

Lakhri had thought about this question quite a bit during their trip back and also during his meditation with Eeth.

"I think," he said in a low voice, not wanting Eeth to overhear, "I ultimately did it because it would have felt great to prove my master wrong just once. He's so damn… good at everything, and it seems as if he's always right. It might be childish of me, but frankly, I find that hard to deal with."

"Don't I know what you're talking about," said Fenya with a sigh. "And yet, there are things that you are much better at than Eeth is. Things like establishing contacts; talking to people; getting people to trust you or maybe even like you."

"Yeah," said Lakhri without much conviction. "But those aren't actual skills. I mean, yes, in a way they are, but they come naturally to me. They don't need much practice."

"They do for Eeth," Fenya pointed out.

Lakhri rolled his eyes. "Okay, I get your meaning," he huffed. "And I know I shouldn't have set out to prove him wrong anyway. I guess I just wanted to whine a little."

Fenya smiled. "You are entitled to whining every once in a while," she said. "Force knows that having Eeth as a master is not easy. If you want to beat him at something, try Corellian strip poker."

"What?" Lakhri asked incredulously.

"Corellian strip poker," repeated Fenya patiently.

"But Eeth has the ultimate poker face!" Lakhri protested.

"To outsiders, maybe," said Fenya. "But I can always see when he has bad cards. He tries hard to suppress his glower, but it's there. Besides, he's rubbish at reading other people's facial expressions. And his sense of fairness will keep him from using the Force to cheat – if he was even able to penetrate your shields these days. They're fairly good."

Lakhri grinned in delight, but sobered down almost instantly.

"That's all good and well, but he _never_ plays games with me," he pointed out. "Why should he start now?"

At this moment, Eeth entered the room, carrying a tray with a pot of tea and three cups. He had taken his time. He knew that there were times at which Lakhri needed someone other than him to talk to, and that person was usually Fenya – especially now that she had become so old and fragile that she spent all of her time at the Temple. He did not begrudge Lakhri that private time with his grandmaster; it seemed to do both of them good.

"Eeth," said Fenya with a big smile as her former padawan set the tray down. "I have just told Lakhri that I haven't enjoyed a good round of strip poker in years. Turns out that Lakhri feels the same way. Do you have a deck of cards?"

"No," said Eeth promptly, frowning at his master.

"I do, though," Lakhri said cheerfully, deliberately ignoring the frown. "I'll get it."

As he made his way to his room, he thought he heard Eeth sigh in resignation and his grandmaster chuckle softly. A contented grin spread across his face.


End file.
